Ryan's Daughter (1970)

David Lean slowly progressed from a classic 40s British director to a maker of sublime masterpieces. His movies were never average, but it was with “The Bridge on the River Kwai” (1957) that he first approached the long epic genre. This was followed by “Lawrence of Arabia” (1962), and “Doctor Zhivago” (1965), each one more epic, each one lingering more with exquisite details of conception, colour and composition, as the story was left to the foreground. These 3 pictures won a total of 19 Oscars, including 2 Best Picture and 2 Best Director for Lean (for Kwai and Lawrence). After Zhivago, at the top of his profession, Lean waited 5 years and then presented “Ryan’s Daughter” to the world. Although it also won 2 Oscars (supporting actor and cinematography) it was a critical and commercial failure, so much that lead to Lean’s retirement, which was only broken 14 years later with “A Passage to India”, his last film. So why was this movie a failure? Well, Lean’s epic vision, which was stretched out as far as it could in Lawrence and Zhivago, went completely over the top. At face value “Ryan’s Daughter” is an amazing movie visually, but incredible boring in its 3 hours and 10 minutes. Yet, if one probes deeper and bares patiently, one may find a work of a master. The story is a retelling of “Madame Bovary” in first-world-war-poor-small-sea-side-town-british-occupied-ireland. Sarah Miles is amazing as a bored girl who marries a much older widowed school teacher (the great Robert Mitchum). This does not fulfil her needs and then she sees herself getting involved with a young British officer, back from the European trenches. Then, off course, the town knows, the husband knows, she is ostracised, etc. I repeat that this simple storyline takes 3 hours. There is only one subplot, and that is of an underground resistance against the British. Also, much is seen through the perspective of the town fool (John Mills in a breathtaking Oscar-winning performance), and Trevor Howard as the priest has also an incredible performance. But besides these acting geniuses, the greatest part in the movie is played by the scenery. The beaches, the cliffs, the waves, all are captured magnificently by Lean. Maurice Jarre’s music swells, and every nuance in the actors faces is captured against this backdrop of pure perfection. There are scenes of sheer magnetism of geniality, like the salvage of the shipwreck (which is not even part of the main plot), or the ride of the lovers through the forest, that are compelling and magnificent to the eye. But the truth is that the eye may be pleased, but the mind gets sleepy. It is too slow. It could have one hour less and still give everything that it gives. It is understandable that audiences from 1970 would not cope with this enormous display of cinematographic quality. It appeals much more to the technician or movie scholar than really to the average viewer. Lean gave it everything a director could give, every single shot resembles a painting, and the structure is perfect. But probably he got much entwined with that to remember the audience. The movie still strikes me as incredibly beautiful and compelling to daughter’s plight, but the truth is that a lot of patience is needed to get to the end of it.